Aria’s POV
I sat at the vanity staring at a row of lipsticks like they were weapons laid out for battle. Red. Darker red. Some shade of pink that looked like it belonged to another life a softer, dumber version of me who used to think dressing up was power instead of armor.
My hand hovered, then grabbed the darkest one. If I was going to do this, I might as well look like I was bleeding.
The cap snapped open, the sound too loud in the quiet room. I twisted the stick, watching the color rise from the tube, bright and sharp. My reflection stared back at me hollow cheeks, eyes bruised from nights without sleep, skin pale enough to show the bones underneath.
Three days.
Three long, heavy, suffocating days locked inside this room like punishment.
No voice. No touch. Just footsteps outside
